Hindsight
by Higurazel
Summary: Mahaado talks about the worst half hour of his life to a sympathetic ear at the bar. Warning for a possibly confusing blend of Ancient Egypt and Modern Day tech, but only in the background. AU too. Sealshipping  Atem x Mahaado


At a quick glance you'd be forgiven for mistaking the slumped shape at the corner for the bar for a pile of coats. Maybe even a collection of oddly-shaped boxes with a some clothes thrown over the top to hide their contents. Then the shape would shift its weight slightly, let out a loud groan as despair and slide out a desparate hand to the barman, passing over a few coins and darting back with whatever drink made a "Surprise" here.

Mahaado started draining the glass quickly, convinced that its contents tasted foul but he was well beyond caring about that sort of thing. As long as he could drink enough to wipe the last few hours out of existence he'd be happy.

Hell, he'd be happy with the alcohol just wiping out the memory of the last few hours.

_Mahaado entered the windowless room, blinking in the harsh glare of the strip light above. He awkwardly adjusted his tie, trying to make sure his suit was immaculate, even though he knew it was too late to make a difference if he looked a mess. He could make out the shape of the table ahead of him, and two figures sitting on the opposite side. He forced a smile, trying not to squint in the harsh light._

_Nervously he approached the table and pulled out the chair he found, taking a seat and extending his hand to the men on the opposite side of the table. There was a long silence, no movement from either of the two men._

_"Well..." One of the men breathed eventually, his voice carrying an edge of frustration. "We were going to offer you a chair, but it looks like we'll skip over that..."_

_Mahaado tensed up, feeling his heart stop for the briefest instant. No. He couldn't have screwed up this badly, this early on in the interview. Please... Please no..._

Another loud groan, pained and hopeless as the sorcerer's mind fired that embarrassing little recollection to plague him.

Clearly more alcohol was necessary here.

He barely even noticed the newcomer sit on the stool next to his, and paid no attention to the words he shared with the barman. He only raised his head when he heard the familiar noise of a full glass scraping across the dusty old wooden counter towards him. More foul-tasting, mind-clouding beer sat proudly in front of him, urging him onto an easy oblivion of mental incoherency. Mahaado still had enough presence of mind to look to his right, at the patron that had bought him the drink. He wore a long coat, it's collar up and concealing his face somewhat. A beaten old hat did its own work to hide its wearer, letting only a few strands of hair tumble into view. Blonde and... Purple? No. It couldn't be, Mahaado thought. The booze playing tricks with his mind.

"What's this?" He asked the stranger.

"A gift. Looked like it would be the sort of thing you might appreciate," The other man answered. His voice was deep, rich with elegance and power. A truly commanding voice.

"Are you saying I look like a drunk?" Mahaado struggled to keep his eloquence, fighting to keep his slurring to a minimum.

"A little." At least it was an honest reply. "Let's just say I felt you should have another."

"Taking pity on me?" Mahaado's face and voice both betrayed his suspicion.

"Something like that. I was also hoping you'd be able to talk with me."

"Sure. Talk." Mahaado sighed, his shoulders slumping underneath his own thick coat. Underneath it he was still wearing the suit he had put on just that morning in a haze of optimism-fuelled delirium. "Not like I haven't done too much of that today."

The stranger chuckled, turning on his seat to face the sorcerer. "Well, let's start with that shall we?"

Mahaado picked up his new glass, sipping at it. Not bad... "Start with what?"

"The talking too much. Sounds like there's a story there."

"Yeah..." Mahaado drifted off, his eyes glazing over in appalled recollection. "A story..."

_"So," One of the men opposite Mahaado said at long last. He was an older man, a thick grey beard jutting from his chin. He wore a suit in almost exactly the same shade of grey, a badge on his breast pocket reading "Akhenaden". "You are applying for the role of a millenium council member, is that correct?"_

_"Yes sir, that's right," Mahaado nodded. Once his head descended he felt it best to stare at the table for a while. He couldn't trust himself not to look too hard at Akhenaden's eye. It was a golden replacement, etched with painstaking care to make it truly a piece of art. Still, Mahaado knew staring at it probably wasn't the best of ideas. There was a clicking of fingers across the table and Mahaado looked up at the other man. He was younger, with brown hair to his shoulders and intense blue eyes. His suit was a brilliant white, cut and tailored to a level that screamed stories of excessive wealth. His name badge read "Seto"._

_"Eyes up here during the interview please," Seto said. It wasn't an angry statement, but it sounded weary, as though he'd made his mind up long ago and was just going through the motions now._

_"Sorry!" Mahaado shifted his weight in his seat, his head snapping into an upright position, eyes fixed firmly ahead._

_Right on Akhenaden's golden eye._

_"Is there a problem Mr. Mahaado?" Akhenaden asked. The sorcerer realised that a few moments had passed by with nothing being said, and nothing happening besides him staring at that damned eye..._

_"No! No of course not!" Mahaado insisted, waving his hands wildly. Desperate to cement his point he cast his mind back. What had he thought earlier? That could diffuse the situation, make it seem a little more normal. "I was just admiring the craftsmanship. It's truly a work of art!" He gave another forced smile, as though complimenting the ocular prostheses of one's interviewer were the most normal thing in the world._

_Another long silence. Mahaado felt himself burning up with embarrassment. Why had he said that? What on earth could have possessed him to say something so foolish?_

_"Anyway," Seto said eventually, picking up some papers and leafing through them, taking a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket and slipping them on, "Let's move on shall we?"_

"Doesn't sound so bad," The stranger summarised while Mahaado took a long gulp of his drink. "At least you complimented him. What might have happened if you'd drawn attention to it in a negative way hmm?" He smiled, raising his hands as if he thought he'd just dispelled all of the man's worries.

"Oh it gets worse." Mahaado put the now empty glass down.

_"Well, let's officially start this off by saying that you come highly recommended to us." Seto said, reading something intently on one of his many collected pages of notes._

_"I do?" Mahaado tried not to sound too stunned._

_"Yes, A Mr... Sunekh speaks very highly of you."_

"Oh.. Well, excellent!" Mahaado breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this wasn't going to be such an uphill battle after all.

_"We don't like Mr. Sunekh." Akhenaden stated bluntly, picking up his own bundle of papers, flicking through until he found what he needed._

_A small glimmer of hope deep inside Mahaado died a very quick death._

"Ouch," The stranger picked up another two drinks, setting one in front of Mahaado, chuckling a little as the story came to a close. "Still. It could be worse."

"Hang on, what?" Mahaado slumped a little closer, "Were you not listening to what I just said?"

"Oh I heard very clearly," The stranger told him. "But there's something I can think of that's worse than an endorsement from the wrong person."

"Which is?"

"No endorsement at all. At least they'd heard of you Mahaado."

"Well..." He trailed off, trying to think of a further argument. "That may be, but it gets worse still!"

_"So." Seto put down his papers, "What do you think makes you qualified for a position on this council?"_

_Mahaado leapt at the opportunity to win back some ground here. "Well!" He cleared his throat, some confidence returning. "I'm a fully qualified practicioner of Black Magic and Divination. If I say so myself, my skills in any sphere of magical influence are second to none."_

_Both Seto and Arkhenaden both started scribbling down some notes. More of that deadly silence followed._

_"And wh-" Arkhaneden sounded as though he were moving on to another question. Another subject. Mahaado knew if he didn't fight to keep the conversation on his own track he'd lose the one thing he had major bragging rights over._

_"Would you like to see?" He blurted out, taking both interviewers by surprise._

_"See?" They both said in unison._

_"Yes, I can show you if you'd like. I could create a fireball perhaps? Or maybe an icestorm?"_

_Akhenaden clearing his throat was the only sound for the next few unbearable long moments._

_"Perhaps, given the confined nature of this interview room, that should be left for another time." He said_

"Again, it doesn't sound half as bad as you seem to think it does." The stranger said, clapping his hand on Mahaado's knee reassuringly.

The sorcerer cocked his head to the side, staring in bewilderment at the other man, "I offered to make a fireball in an enclosed space with no windows." he said slowly, spelling it out.

"And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you make the fireball?"

"Don't be absurd! I'd have killed us all!"

"Well there you go then!" The stranger laughed, picking up his own drink, "If, at the end of the interview, neither yourself nor the interviewer are on fire then it's a positive net result."

"But. But I still.." Mahaado shook his head, groaning as he lowered his face into his hands. "And then it ended..."

_Mahaado was shown out of the interview room, back into the palace corridor outside. It seemed so much darker out there with the strip-light for contrast._

_"Well, thank you for coming along." Seto said, that same by-rote tone in his voice piercing through Mahaado's hopes. "It's been interesting. We'll contact you with more information about the next step once you we finish processing all applications."_

_Mahaado swallowed, clenching his fists slightly, deciding to take the "All or Nothing" approach. If he didn't do something now, this could go down as the worst half hour of his life. He turned to the two men as they lead him into the corridor, taking them firmly by the hand each in turn, giving them the heartiest handshake he had ever mustered. "Well I know I've had an excellent time," He said, forcing that smile back to his lips, "I look forward to hearing back from you." His brain came to a screeching halt. Did he say "I" or "Eye"? He knew they sounded the same, but had he intoned it differently? Had he made it sound meaningful? He couldn't recall. Oh gods, what if they thought he was making a joke about Akhenaden's golden eye? "Quick!" a voice in the back of his head shouted, "Fix this!"_

_Mahaado retracted his hand, glancing about nervously before winking at Akhenaden, trusting he would get the implication that it was all a misunderstanding and no offence was meant. Later on in the bar, he had mulled over the thought that maybe all it had made Akhenaden think was either A.) Maybe Mahaado had been making a joke at his expense after all, or B.) Mahaado had a tendency to wink at strangers._

_Neither were particularly glowing interpretations._

Mahaado collapsed in a heap over the counter, face buried in his folded arms. He occasionally let out a despair-filled gurgle.

"Tell me something," The stranger said, shifting on his stool, "Why did you want this job so much?"

Mahaado lifted his head, his face filled with gloom, long brown hair spilling into his eyes. "What do you mean?" He mumbled.

"Well, you said yourself you're a very capable magician-"

"The best."

"The best in fact," The stranger patted him on the back, "So why this job in particular?"

"Plenty of reasons." Mahaado slurred, pulling himself back upright. "I could be in a position to use my magic for everyone. I could protect people. I could be Egypt's greatest protector."

Egypt's would-be-greatest-protector swayed uneasily in his stool, a little saliva running from the corner of his mouth and with damp hair stuck to his forehead.

"Any other reason?"

"Well..." Mahaado waited until he stopped swaying before he leaned in conspiratorially, whispering "Between you and me, I used to be good friends with Pharoah Atem. Before he was Pharaoh mind you, we were just kids at the time. We split ways when I started my magical training, and I've not seen him since. I figured the millenium council work closely with the Pharaoh so it'd be a good chance for me to... well, y'know, work alongside my old buddy. Both of us working side by side to set things right."

"Sounds like a noble goal."

"Yeah... Well..." Mahaado swayed again, giving a loud hiccup, "In many ways... Your face." And with that he collapsed forward, falling asleep on a pillow of his own arms. The stranger waited a little while until the onset of loud snoring confirmed that the sorcerer was merely sleeping, and then he got to his feet. On the way out, he whispered to the barman.

"He should be ok there for now, could you do me a favour and not wake him? It's probably best he just sleeps for a bit."

Atem stepped out into the red glow of late evening, his car parked on the curb with Shadaa and Isis looking at him expectantly.

"Have him picked up tomorrow morning." The Pharaoh said, getting into the back seat and taking off the hat. "Actually... Make that tomorrow afternoon. A first day at work is bad enough even without a hangover..."


End file.
